The NeverNever
by PallaPlease
Summary: The NSA's funding a paradoxical organization, and suddenly Ro's got a little sister running around - or, rather, another Ro.  [On Hold]
1. Extra Stuff [Legal and Otherwise]

The Never-Never  
  
*  
  
Extra Stuff [Legal and Otherwise]  
  
*  
  
Author's Notes: Eheheh. Okay, this is a blend of Zee|Zeta/Ro and West/Lee...and, by God, it's a chapter fic! Maybe I'll even finish it...nah. Hey, anybody else notice that Bucky has the same voice as Twister from Nickelodeon's "Rocket Power" show? I like Twister. I like Bucky. HA!! I like the underdogs. (Is that why I'm obsessed with W/L...? Heck if I know.)   
  
Disclaimer: Do I look like I own any of the characters? Okay, I own various clones created for this fic, but, technically, I don't even own them...  
  
Summary: Oh, lookie. It's a serious Z/R fic. Who didn't see that coming? *lol* Actually, there's also a great deal of West/Lee. Summary? The NSA's funding a paradoxical organization...and suddenly there's doubles...  
  
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	2. Prelude - Ry

The Never-Never  
  
*  
  
Prelude: Ry  
  
*  
  
I was born in a place I know not the name of. I do not wish to know. It is as a philosopher once said: Ignorance is bliss.  
  
They would not permit me that luxury.   
  
I was told at the time of my birth - if it could be called that - that I was a genetic duplicate of a young woman, a runaway, named Rosalie Rowan.  
  
They named me Ry. They gave me clothing. A white t-shirt, a pair of black jeans, some tennis shoes.  
  
And they gave me a sister.  
  
She was a copy as well, a copy of a NSA agent named China Lee.  
  
They gave her the name of Diabla.  
  
Diabla: a feminine noun in the Spanish language meaning devil, derived from the masculine noun 'diablo.'  
  
I hated her and she hated me.  
  
We were sent to work with the NSA strike force determined to capture Zeta and Rosalie Rowan. Diabla met Lee and West.  
  
Me? I met a child, a boy of twelve years called Bucky.  
  
And I met Rosalie Rowan and Zeta.  
  
There was one thing my creators should never have given me.  
  
Individuality.  
  
I am not a clone.  
  
I am Ry.  
  
*****  
  
To Be Continued...*maniacal laughing*  
  
***** 


	3. I - Birth

The Never-Never  
  
*  
  
I - Birth  
  
*  
  
Monitors clicked on and off throughout the course of a frantic half hour, humming their electric songs of power and technology. Men and women outfitted in white worked feverishly, desperately trying to stop the process.  
  
Too early!  
  
Premature!  
  
Unsafe!  
  
It was ironic that millions of dollars in funding would be powerless against the emotionless way of nature. Thousands of babies were born premature, so why not twin clones? But while an infant would be born small and fetal, the clone sisters would be birthed at the physical age of thirteen instead of the seventeen years aimed for in the blueprints.  
  
"Damn!" cried one man and the blonde-haired one snapped open her blue eyes, floating naked in a crystalline tube filled with the thick liquids needed for a fetus' maturing. Her sister followed after a paused second, dark obsidian eyes piercing and compelling.  
  
"Get them out!" ordered a woman - the project director - and procedures that shouldn't have been employed at this time were thrust into motion, machinery warring against programming so as to prevent the twins' untimely deaths.  
  
They were asphyxiating.  
  
The blonde one, the girl they had named Ry, seemed to be studying the tank while struggling to remain conscious. Diabla, her sister, kicked at the glass, clawing off the wires and clammy tapes glued to her skin.  
  
"Get them out!" the woman screamed again.  
  
Glass shattered and scientists ducked, stomachs growing queasy as waves of the liquid spilled across the tile floor.  
  
"Are you all right, my dears?" the woman asked tentatively, edging her way over to the two coughing bodies curled on the floor.  
  
Ry glanced up, mouth forming a yes.  
  
Diabla hissed.  
  
"Call Bennett," the woman called clearly to a visibly shaking assistant, "and tell him his two newest agents are almost ready for early delivery." She smiled, kindly, but in an almost predatorial way. "Come, my dears. There's so much to do."  
  
*   
  
Paperwork.  
  
Lee ran a hand over her face, silently counting to ten. If a mountain of paperwork needed to be filled out annually for continued service in the NSA, then so be it.  
  
How, she wondered idly, does West do it? The guy was probably the most eager person she'd ever known. She needed some of the coffee he drank in the morning, she decided. Whatever got him going, she needed it.  
  
Leafing through the pages, she noticed something peculiar.   
  
There was an unmarked manila folder between the medical history sheets and the current personal economic standing requirements. What made it peculiar, though, was the fact that it was near bursting with hundreds of sheets of computer paper.  
  
Curiosity got the better of her and she flipped it open.  
  
And found herself staring at a thirteen-year old girl exactly the same as her.  
  
*  
  
Ro fiddled with the straw of her soda, trying hard to dissuade the odd feeling of déjà vu creeping along her neck. Was it déjà vu, she mused, or a foreboding sense of danger? Most likely the latter, what with Bennett in town.  
  
*  
  
Ry and Diabla were given rooms, clothing, and food...but they were not given answers.  
  
*****  
  
So it's short. Gimme some time! Please leave me some CC&C!  
  
***** 


	4. II - Learning

The Never-Never  
  
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II - Learning  
  
*  
  
"We fed you information through electrodes directly into specified areas of your respective brains," Dr. Clark - the project director - explained to the twin clones, both of whom were seated in two small, hard-backed chairs in the fore of a blackboard coated with chalk dust and etchings. "Unfortunately," she added as an afterthought, "due to your premature births, the information is incomplete." A harsh jerk and several falls of dust later, two large, thick books - manuals, really - were dropped heavily into their laps.   
  
"What's this?" Ry asked, tone polite.  
  
"It's huge," Diabla deadpanned.  
  
"This," Dr. Clark glared at a scowling Diabla and smiled at a confused Ry, "is the text you will be reading on the trip to the current location of the NSA strike force tracing after Zeta and a runaway named Rosalie Rowan. You have both been given photographic memories, so the information should be stored away rather neatly in your little heads until you need to use it."  
  
"So?" Diabla drawled sardonically. "Why should we care?"  
  
Dr. Clark resisted a strong impulse to reach over and throttle the dark-haired girl.   
  
"You will learn how to handle NSA weaponry, vehicles, tools, etc. as well as proper protocol of the NSA. And that, my dear Diabla, is only the beginning."  
  
"Who is this Rosalie Rowan?" Ry spoke up softly, staring blankly down at the thick book still on her lap. "Who is she...?"  
  
Dr. Clark sighed.   
  
"Rosalie Rowan," she began clearly, "is your donor. You are her clone."  
  
Ry sank back in her chair, tracing designs on the book's cover.  
  
"Who's my donor?" piped up Diabla, curiosity obvious on her Asian features.  
  
"Agent China Lee," replied the doctor, briskly, "of the NSA strike force you are being sent to. She is the partner of one Agent Hunter West and you two will be working with them."  
  
"Question," was Diabla's response. "Can we do anything special?"  
  
"Yes," came the swift response, "as a matter of fact, you can. You two are physically advanced. You are faster, more agile, and stronger than humans as a whole. If one were to compare, say, Ry with Infiltration Unit 07, they would each have the same amount of physical power as the other. Same goes for you, Diabla." Dr. Clark took her glasses off and massaged the skin at the corners of her grey eyes, placing her spectacles back on after a moment. "Probably the only thing you can't do is sprout weapons from your various limbs and fly."  
  
"Cool," Diabla grinned and Dr. Clark grinned, too.  
  
"Will we have to hurt people?" Ry's voice broke through. She looked hesitant, her teeth biting her bottom lip anxiously. "I don't want to hurt anyone."  
  
Diabla rolled her dark eyes, sweeping a small hand through her mid-back long hair. "Who cares?" she answered snidely in the form of a question. "If somebody gets in the way," she formed a pretend gun with her index fingers and her thumbs, "blam. No big deal."  
  
Ry felt queasy.  
  
"Ry," Dr. Clark started gently, moving into a crouch before the small blonde girl, "the only object you have to capture or destroy is Zeta and Zeta is merely a robot. There's no reason for you to feel guilty. Robots don't have emotions." Waiting to see Ry's reluctant nod, the silver-haired woman smiled.  
  
Straightening herself up, Dr. Clark turned to a cluttered desk behind her, obscured by the poor lighting of the basement room and the musty air. She rooted through the contents flung willy-nilly over the wooden desk, finally exclaiming an "ah-ha!" and whipping out three photos.  
  
"This," she began grandly, "is Rosalie Rowan." She handed the photograph to Ry, who stared sadly at the young man and woman in the picture. "The man she's with, in the dark violet coat, is Zeta's favorite disguise. They're rarely seen apart, this 'Ro' and Zeta. Ro is about fifteen years in age."  
  
"What's the other stuff?" Diabla asked curiously.  
  
Dr. Clark smiled, saying, "I was getting to that. This picture is for you, Diabla." She slipped the photo to the ruder of the two girls. "The woman in this is China Lee, and the red-haired man is Hunter West. Both are about twenty."  
  
"They don't look it," Diabla commented dubiously.  
  
Dr. Clark shrugged and held out the final photo to Ry.  
  
A young boy, a preteen, no doubt, in a labcoat with tan skin and dusty brown hair was the focus of this one.  
  
"This," Dr. Clark smiled grimly, "is Bucky. He's a twelve-year old super-genius with one of the highest IQ's in the world itself. Sadly, he behaves like a spoiled brat. He's obnoxious, precocious, and he has shown signs of having a crush on Ro. This has actually led him to assisting Zeta in evading or destroying NSA property." She looked pointedly at Ry. The teenaged girl wished, fervently, that the woman would stop looking at her like that; she was scary! "Which is why we need you, Ry, to convince him to work for us. Hopefully, with his intellect, we might be able to have a greater chance on capturing Zeta."  
  
"Why me?" questioned Ry, though she felt she already knew the answer.  
  
"If he has a crush on Ro, it shouldn't be too hard for her younger clone to trick him," Dr. Clark sneered deviously, "now would it?"  
  
Ry dropped the picture of Zeta and Ro, opting to study the one of Bucky more closely.  
  
"Hello," she murmured, voice barely audible, "Bucky."  
  
Her fingertips traced over the two-dimensional facial features and the smug smirk the boy held proudly on his ash-smudged face, a pair of dirty protective eye gear pushed up into his hair.  
  
"My name is Ry..."  
  
*****  
  
Oooo. Yay. Are you bored yet? If you're bored, feel free to depart forever from the weird and unusual fanfiction I am forever doomed to write! Hey, maybe next chapter'll actually have something interesting in it...maybe next chapter'll be longer than two or three pages. Sheesh. Type me a message in that little box down there that they give you to flame people!  
  
***** 


	5. III - Meet Bucky!  (Well, Ry Does)

The Never-Never  
  
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III - Meet Bucky! (Well, Ry Does)  
  
*  
  
Ry fingered the end of a strand of her blonde hair, finally sweeping it behind her ear.   
  
The rain blocked the name of the science center, but she knew she was at the right place. After all, she did have a photographic memory, and she'd memorized the map. So now it was just a matter of getting to where she wanted to be inside the building.  
  
And that was where Bucky was.  
  
She held her hand in her pocket, feeling the smooth surface of the snapshot Dr. Clark had given her of him.  
  
Taking a deep breath, she stiffened her resolve and cast a last longing look back at her sister and the NSA official chaperoning them, both seated in a rather fancy black car.  
  
Ry wasn't sure why she felt so horrible, but she did.   
  
"Go into the laboratory building and go to the front desk," echoed Dr. Clark's instructions in her head, "and ask for Jennifer. She'll take you to where Bucky is. Odds are, he'll either be in his lab or his room."  
  
"Well," Ry told herself firmly, "you're never going to get anywhere if you don't move your feet."  
  
It was very hard, she discovered, to move her feet when her muscles didn't want to cooperate. "Move!" she ordered softly and, reluctantly, she was walking forward at a hesitant pace that quickly developed into a hasty sort of run-slip-walk jog. The cement was wet and slick, covered in thick moisture.  
  
I'm feeling rain, she realized as she moved across the street. This delicious wetness, the cold little drops hitting my skin...this is rain.  
  
No text had prepared her for this assault of feel, for the cold and the gentle absurdness of it.   
  
It was strange. She wanted to stop with her little mission and just stand there, in the freezing rain, and feel it, around her, on her, off her.  
  
But in the back of her mind lurked a dark shadow, constantly reminding her to go into the building.  
  
So, sighing, she broke into a full-fledged run, flying across the parking lot on her sneaker-protected feet.   
  
Elbowing the door open, she padded wetly up to the front desk, not noticing the small puddles of water dripping off her flesh and hair.  
  
"Hello," she smiled at the male intern, who appeared shocked, "may I speak to Jennifer?"  
  
The young man, only about sixteen years of age, clamped a hand over his eyes and fumbled for the elongated silver switch that would turn the intercom on. Finally, he flipped the switch, grasped the microphone and plainly spoke into it. "Jennifer report to the main lobby immediately. Repeat, Jennifer report to the main lobby immediately." He kept his hand over his eyes and Ry felt concerned. Did he have some sort of illness?  
  
"Are you all right?" she asked.  
  
He nodded.  
  
Shrugging, she peeled the soaked white t-shirt away from her clammy skin, letting the material then hang heavily the way it should, though the hem remained plastered to her hips.   
  
Following an awkward minute, a tall, willowy woman with dark olive skin and curly blue hair hurriedly bustled into the room, a labcoat buttoned up on her body and another flung over one arm. She took one look at Ry, gasped, and shot across the room. "Oh, dear! Put this on right away!"  
  
Blinking, Ry obeyed, pulling the white coat on. "Is something wrong?"  
  
"Well, you need to wear this if you're going to go into a laboratory! But didn't you know that when a white t-shirt gets wet it...ah...becomes transparent? Poor Felipe must feel so ashamed!" Jennifer, for that was the average-looking woman's name, glanced in amusement at a furiously blushing and nodding Felipe, the intern.  
  
Ry blinked again. "Why should he be ashamed? I'm the one with the wet shirt."  
  
Jennifer paused. "Good point. Anyway, Dr. Clark called me and told me I was supposed to take you to meet Bucky." She paused again, studying Ry's face. "I know I've seen you before..."   
  
Ry shrugged and smiled nervously.   
  
"All right, follow me!"  
  
*  
  
Lifting the photograph up, Ry cocked her head to one side and, for the umpteenth time that day, she looked at the not-so complimentary view of Bucky.  
  
Jennifer, in turn, looked at Ry and grinned to herself. A girl around Bucky's age, acting like she had a crush on his picture...this was something she'd never thought she'd see in her lifetime!  
  
A muffled explosion came from a room up ahead, trails of thick black smoke streaking out from under the closed doors.  
  
Ry's eyes widened remarkably and she pocketed the picture.  
  
"What was that?" she gasped.  
  
Jennifer shrugged carelessly. "Bucky."  
  
The doors were flung open and, staggering, out came a boy with tan skin and dusty brown hair, peeling eye gear off his face to reveal the only skin not covered with ash or some unidentifiable green goop.  
  
"And that," Jennifer smiled mischievously, "is Bucky."  
  
"What?" he asked innocently.  
  
*****  
  
Next chapter: IV - Precocious Isn't Precious, Ry! Heheh. Don't you hate how I do this? I don't even have decent cliffhangers! Man, I'm an awful writer. HA!! SEE IF I CARE!!! I like Bucky, if you haven't noticed. I understand his sarcasm (mainly 'cause I'm sarcastic a lot, but that's beside the point), and he's also cute in a demonic sort of way. Aw, heck. Anywho, leave me a sweet flame in that box they give ya to curse in!!  
  
***** 


	6. IV - Precocious Isn't Precious, Ry!

The Never-Never  
  
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IV - Precocious Isn't Precious, Ry!  
  
*  
  
"What?" he asked innocently.  
  
"What did you do now, Bucky?" Jennifer sighed.  
  
"Nothing!" he defended quickly. As an afterthought, he added, "How was I to know mixing those certain chemicals was highly dangerous? Besides, I'd never get anywhere if I didn't blow a few things up! By accident, of course."  
  
"Bucky," Jennifer began sweetly, "you do realize this is the third time in the past two days that you've had a lab accident, right? Which means..."  
  
"Grounded," he sighed.  
  
Ry had been hiding behind Jennifer and, shyly, she peeked around the taller woman to look at Bucky.   
  
Flicking a piece of the green gunk off his nose, he busied himself with getting off all traces of the lab explosion in a futile hope that the director wouldn't notice it. Much as he enjoyed his room and net-surfing, he had been making rather excellent progress in his latest experiment and thusly he was loathe to have to abandon them at this point in time.   
  
Bending over to untie his shoes, he noticed an extra pair of sneakers with legs attached to them move out from behind Jennifer.  
  
"Ro?" he blinked. "What the he...," he hastily changed the original word, "heck happened to you? Why're you here? Where's Zeta?"  
  
"I'm not Ro," Ry shuffled her feet, rubbing her clothed arm with one hand, "my name is Ry. I'm a clone of Rosalie Rowan."  
  
Bucky lunged at her and Jennifer yelped, moving away from the preteen boy and the green goop he was trailing along with his labcoat.   
  
"A clone?! Are you a complete genetic copy of her? You look it, but looks aren't everything...do you have the same blood type? Same brain wave-frequencies? Where'd you come from? Ha-"  
  
"Cool your jets," Jennifer interrupted. "She's here to offer you a proposition."  
  
"Oh." He considered this. "But then can I run some tests on her?"  
  
"Why are you asking me?" demanded Jennifer. "She's sentient! Why don't you ask her!"  
  
"Can I run some experiments on you?"  
  
"Bucky!"  
  
"What? You told me to ask her!"  
  
"Excuse me-"  
  
"It was a rhetorical question! You weren't supposed to actually ask her!"  
  
"Why not?"  
  
"Um, excu-"  
  
"It's rude!"  
  
"So?"  
  
"HEY!!! I'm trying to talk to you!"  
  
Jennifer and Bucky froze, ceasing their arguing as Ry scowled evilly at the two.  
  
"Thank-you. I've been sent by the NSA," Ry smiled, her long blonde hair pulled back in a braid that dangled over her shoulder, "to bargain with you."  
  
"For what?" Bucky questioned, eyeing her suspiciously.  
  
"Your services in assisting the development of NSA equipment," Ry spread her hands out, "and I have been given permission to tell you what the NSA can offer." She took a deep breath and continued, reciting from memory, "You will receive unlimited funding for three years following the end of the contract and will be permitted to work in any NSA facilities. During the time of the contract, you will have access to any and all schematics and be able to alter them as you see fit if alterations will improve the design, as well as having the ability to practice individual experiments in a personal laboratory." Ry stopped, gazing steadily at Bucky, who was clearly interested.  
  
"Unlimited funding? ALL schematics? How long is the contract?" Bucky shot rapidly, wiping his sleeve over his face in a useless attempt to clean it. His sleeve was dirty itself, so all he did was smudge the ash.  
  
"The contract is for one year. You may have time to think over your decis-"  
  
"Could we go now?" he interjected eagerly.  
  
"Now? But don't you have t-"  
  
"Bucky!" barked another woman's voice from the other end of the lengthy hallway.  
  
He turned to Jennifer. "Send the data in my lab to my Net address!"  
  
Grabbing Ry's arm, he ran down the hall, yelling a, " 'Bye!"  
  
"Bucky!" roared the pudgy other woman and he nearly dislocated Ry's arm from her shoulder socket he pulled her along so fast.  
  
The next moment, he found himself being carried by Ry, traveling at a bounding, blurring speed.  
  
"Wow," he gaped.  
  
Felipe blinked and missed them.  
  
*****  
  
Hmm. Maybe I could compact II through IV into one chapter...nah. I'm too lazy. All right, II, III, and IV were all written on Thursday, May 31, 2001, but I couldn't get on-line at the time, so I've posted 'em on Sunday, June 3, 2001. Okay? Great! Remember to review!  
  
***** 


End file.
